


Sanctuary

by Fyre



Series: The Protector of Wakanda [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kingdom of Wakanda was many things to many people. Now, it was a haven to a few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> I love T'Challa's grace in admitting he was wrong and in taking in those he knows need his help. Precious Panther.

T’Challa was woken by a touch to the shoulder.

“Highness.”

It took him a moment to gather his wits. The clock beside the bed showed twenty-six minutes after three. He could imagine many reasons for being woken so early. “They have returned?” he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Yes, Highness.” Okoye, his security chief, was standing at attention. “They will come into the landing bay within the half hour.”

T’Challa sat up, nodding. “Very well.” He rose from the bed and two attendants immediately stepped forward to help him into his robe. It felt like an unnecessary luxury, but it was all part of his new role and duty. “Did Captain Rogers report any problems?”

“Clean extraction. No reported injuries, but he indicated that mechanical and medical assistance may be required.”

T’Challa nodded grimly. He had visited Ross’s prison. It was a fortress, but Rogers insisted on going alone so that their alliance would not become public knowledge. “Ensure they are waiting,” he said, striding towards the door.

Okoye fell into step behind him. “The quarters have been prepared.”

“All security measures are in place?” Her silence was response enough, and one side of his mouth curled up. To ask the question was bordering on an insult. “Of course they are all in place.”

“As my King requested.” Her tone was as dry as the Sahara.

They stepped into the elevator, which silently descended the dozen levels to the private landing bay. It was deserted and silent, but beyond the entrance, he could hear the muffled roar of the falls, a constant, the lifeblood of Wakanda. 

Minutes later, she touched a fingertip to her ear. “Captain Rogers is making his descent.”

T’Challa walked forward and watched as the small stealth craft swept in through the mist of the falls. Captain Rogers brought it in to land smoothly, and as soon as the wheels touched the ground, the rear hatch was opening.

Four emerged on foot, but Captain Rogers was carrying the fifth of their number: the witch. Her head was lolling against his shoulder, and while her eyes were open, she seemed to be unaware of her surroundings. One arm hung limp by her side, and the faint mark of restraints were visible.

T’Challa approached and as he drew near, he saw a light flickering at her throat. A collar, he realised with disgust. Probably to keep her placid and helpless. “Captain?”

“Your Highness.” Rogers nodded to him. He was moving stiffly, but he was hiding it well. Tired, no doubt. He had left many hours before, and had likely not rested. “I don’t want to sound abrupt, but do you have someone who can get this thing off her?”

T’Challa hesitated briefly. “Your pardon,” he murmured to the girl, then gently drew her hair back from the collar and lifted her chin with his other hand. He had seen such things before, and while the technology was advanced, it was nothing they could not undo. “I will take her, Captain. You see to your men.”

One of the men - Clint, T’Challa recalled - stepped forward. “I want to come with her.”

Rogers met T’Challa’s eyes and nodded curtly.

“Very well,” T’Challa said. Rogers transferred the girl into his arms. She was light as a child. It was difficult to believe she was the most powerful of them all. “Captain, I will bring you word as soon as it is done.”

Captain Rogers nodded, and T’Challa was pleased to note that his ally, the Falcon, stepped close to him and touched his arm. As he turned and walked away, he heard the Falcon murmur something that sounded like ‘rest’. Rogers seemed like he was the kind of man who needed to be reminded to rest.

“She’s been out of it the whole time we were down there,” Clint said. He was walking a couple of steps behind T’Challa. His tone was light, but there was worry beneath the words. “They had her strapped up as well. Didn’t trust her not to try something.”

“Do you think it is only the collar?” T’Challa murmured, as they reached the elevator.

Clint shook his head. His features were lined with concern. “They carried her in. I think they might have dosed her. Keep her quiet. Easier to handle.”

T’Challa nodded. It was not unlikely for a country who kept prisoners without charge in cages like animals. “We have a medical team waiting for us. They will be able to check her vital signs to determine if this is biological or purely mechanical.”

“Good.” Clint exhaled. “Good.” He lifted a hand - trembling - and smoothed the girl’s hair back from her face. “You hear that, kid? This is nothing. I bet you just wanted a King to carry you around, huh?”

“She will be fine, Clint.” T’Challa murmured.

The man looked at him. “Thought you didn’t care.”

“This does not mean that I do.” 

The elevator doors opened and the medical team crowded in on them, helping him to lay the girl out on a trolley. She was swept ahead of them, and T’Challa could pick out two technicians among the six nurses, who set to work on the collar. 

“Thank you.”

T’Challa glanced at the other man. “I beg your pardon.”

“For this.” Clint waved vaguely towards the bed and the medical team. “I mean, while there are no witnesses.” He smiled, but it was a tired and fragile expression. “Can’t have them thinking I have manners or whatever.”

“Amends must be made,” T’Challa murmured. “I agree with the Accords, but I do not agree with everything that followed.” He looked back towards the bed. “This was not a fight of our making, but we are the ones who must pick up the pieces.”

Clint snorted. “Story of my life.”

It was difficult to stand by and watch. There was little either of them could do. Clint paced back and forth along the windows of the room. T’Challa stood within five paces of the bed and watched them. From the urgent chatter, the girl was stabilising, but her system needed to be flushed to clear the sedatives that were keeping her subdued.

The collar, however, was the priority. If it could not be removed before she regained her senses, he could not begin to imagine the damage she could do to herself.

Minutes became an hour, an hour became two.

Clint stopped pacing. He perched on one of the chairs, watching the technicians work.

The light of dawn was touching the horizon when the collar finally opened.

There was a collective breath of relief and the technicians retreated to allow the medics to finish their task.

“It’s off?” Clint hopped down from the chair.

“It is,” T’Challa confirmed. “Now, it is only a matter of waiting for her to awaken.”

The man nodded. “I’ll stay with her until then. Friendly face.”

“And I shall let your Captain know all is well.”

To his surprise, Clint held out a hand. “Thank you,” he said again. “Really.”

T’Challa studied him. “You care for this girl.”

Clint shrugged with a brief smile. “I owe her.” He retreated back to his chair, resuming his perch, his arms crossed on his upraised knees.

T’Challa returned to the elevator and touched the control panel. He was unsurprised that Okoye chose to remain. Clint Barton and Wanda Maximoff were unknown elements. She would not feel comfortable leaving them unsupervised.

It took only a few minutes for him to reach the quarters assigned to the Captain and his allies. Rogers and Wilson were both sitting at the table, and turned, rising, as he entered the room.

T’Challa raised a hand, motioning for them to sit. “The collar has been removed,” he said. “The medical team believe that the sedatives will wear off soon. They intend to flush her system to speed the process.”

“But she’ll be okay?” Rogers asked.

T’Challa nodded. “She is a strong young woman, Captain. She will be fine.”

Rogers slumped with relief. “Thank God.”

Wilson leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “Now, will you go to bed or do I have to ask his Kinginess to give you a royal order?”

Rogers laughed wearily. “I think you’d call him your Highness.”

Wilson snorted and glanced over at T’Challa. “I think I’ll call him whatever I like.” There was a glint in his eye. “How about Catman?”

T’Challa’s lips twitched. “Your friend is disrespectful, Captain.”

“You get used to it,” Rogers said, but he was smiling, and he looked happier than he had in days. “Sam, play nice.”

“You gonna go to bed?”

“If you promise to play nice.”

Wilson folded his arms and studied T’Challa. “I can do that. Unless a brother gives me attitude.”

Rogers patted him on the shoulder. “Good enough.” He nodded to T’Challa. “Your Highness.”

T’Challa and Wilson both watched him walking towards one of the bedrooms.

“You know he’s never gonna stop calling you that until you ask him to,” Wilson observed.

“And you believe I should ask?”

Wilson looked at him and when he smiled, it reached his eyes. “I heard it’s a thing that friends do, the whole first-name basis thing.”

T’Challa smiled ruefully. “Barnes - Bucky - said the same thing.”

“That’ll take some getting used to, huh?” Wilson scratched the back of his neck. “Look, I just wanted to thank you. For helping them.”

“I am hearing this a lot today.” T’Challa brushed Wilson’s words away with a gesture. “You are not a burden, you and your people. We can offer you a haven as long as you require it.”

“And you’re not worried about the rest of the world being kinda pissed about it.”

T’Challa had to smile. “To the world, we have been invisible for centuries. To be angry, they would have to acknowledge us, and I do not think they are willing to do that yet. We are a powerful sovereign nation. They would not want us as an enemy.”

Wilson looked impressed. “All stick, no carrot. I like it.” He tilted his head. “You had any sleep tonight? Or are you as bad as Steve?”

“I slept a little.”

Wilson shook his head. “One day, I’m going to get a unit that gives a damn about their health, I swear to God.” He motioned to the door. “Go on. Get out of here with your silk pyjamas and fancy robe. Get back to bed! I’m not being the reason the King of Wakanda falls asleep on his throne.”

T’Challa chuckled. “This is playing nice?”

Wilson raised his eyebrows. “I’m taking care of your insomniac ass. I consider that nice.”

T’Challa smiled. “Very well, Wilson. I will take your… nice advice into consideration. Good morning to you.”

He retreated to his chamber, and managed another hour and a half of sleep before one of his aides woke him. A meeting was not the best way to start the day, but it was necessary. Two more followed: the defence department and an envoy from one of the northern provinces bringing reports about flooding in upper river valley.

By the time noon rolled around, he was feeling the effects of the night, and mercifully had several hours to spare before his next series of meetings.

Still, it was only polite to visit his other guest, to be sure she was recovering.

Okoye greeted him at the door, and nodded towards the balcony.

The girl was sitting on the bench, leaning back against the wall, her eyes closed. Her fingers were twitching in her lap, sparking with magic that had been tethered and contained for the weeks of her imprisonment. 

He scuffed his feet to let her know she was not alone and she opened her eyes, then widened them as she realised who she was looking at.

“It is all right,” T’Challa murmured, motioning for her to keep her seat. “I did not come here to exhaust you.”

She slid a little along the seat, leaving space for him in a wordless invitation. He sat down beside her, and looked back out over the valley. For several moments, they sat in silence.

“It is strange, is it not,” he began, “how something so loud can bring such peace?”

“It’s natural,” the girl’s voice was soft. “And so powerful.”

He glanced at her. “As you are.”

She clenched her hands into fists, smothering the sparks. “And dangerous.”

Her so-called allies had sealed her away like a weapon. They had drugged her. They had shackled her. They had treated her as less than human. Who was he, if he did not treat her with the respect and kindness that they had denied her?

He reached over and gently covered her hand with his. He felt the crackle of her magic against his skin, heard the way she caught her breath.

“You are not your power,” he murmured, looking at her. He stroked his thumb gently against her clenched fingers. “It is difficult, yes, and people will look to you with fear and doubt, but that does not change who you are.”

Her lips trembled. “You don’t know me.”

“I know Captain Rogers trusts you. I know Clint Barton watched over you like one of his own, while you slept. I know Wilson fought by your side.” He squeezed her hand gently, then released it. “I know these men are good men. Loyal men. If such good and loyal men believe you to be worthy of trust, how can I think otherwise?”

She laughed unsteadily. “Because they are all idiots,” she said abruptly, then covered her mouth with her hand, as if she had misspoken. “I- I mean…”

T’Challa looked at her with amusement. “You may be right, but I may also be right.”

She ducked her head, her hair falling forward to obscure her face. “They are my friends. Friends can sometimes be blind.”

“That they are your friends at all suggests they see you for who you are.” He rose from the bench and braced his hands on the broad rail, looking out over the valley. It was a simple gesture of trust, turning one’s back on someone considerably more powerful. The air was warm and humid, with a cool breeze carried from the falls. “If you feel well enough, there are chambers arranged for you with the Captain and your companions.”

She was silent for several minutes. “You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

He glanced back at her. “You have not given me a reason to be.” He turned around and leaned back against the rail. “And you: are you afraid of me?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “The collar. You took it away.”

He nodded. “You are no animal to be leashed.” He offered her a hand. “Would you like to join your friends? Captain Rogers would be relieved to see you.”

Her hand was small and cool in his, and when she smiled, it reached her eyes.


End file.
